


As Good As It Gets

by Mireille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-01
Updated: 2005-06-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: There are some things that scare even Gryffindors. Millicent Bulstrode is about twelve of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the publication of HBP.

There were some things that not even Gryffindor courage was equal to, and Neville thought that Millicent Bulstrode was probably about twelve of them, all on her own.

Having Millicent Bulstrode drop a note in his lap on her way out of Potions one Wednesday afternoon in October of his sixth year was possibly another ten.

"What's it say?" Dean demanded. He'd been stuck working with Neville - Professor Snape had been trying to keep him away from Hermione; he was still furious that Neville had managed to qualify for the Potions NEWT class, and was determined that Neville would not pass his NEWT - and obviously regarded this as his reward for a hellish two hours.

Neville opened it hesitantly, reminding himself that he'd survived far worse than a note from a girl, even if said girl was a. a Slytherin, b. several inches taller than he was, c. rumored to have put a sixth year Hufflepuff in the hospital wing when she was a third year, and d. a Slytherin, which was important enough to count twice. Then he read the note, and he wasn't so certain about that any longer. He shoved the parchment at Dean, stammering slightly as he asked, "This is a Hogsmeade weekend, isn't it?"

Dean nodded cheerfully. "Seamus and I have plans with the Patil twins." Dean and Ginny Weasley had broken up shortly after the term started, though neither of them seemed troubled by it. Then _Dean_ read the note, and his grin started looking a little crazed. "You're sure this was meant for you?"

"Do you know anyone else here called Longbottom?"

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched again. "Looks like you've a date on Saturday, then."

"I do not!" Neville yelped, snatching the parchment back from him.

"You're right." Dean grinned. "Meeting Millicent Bulstrode in the alley behind the Hog's Head isn't a date. It's-"

"A nightmare," Neville concluded woefully. "And she said she'd curse me if I didn't show up."

Dean shrugged. "She'll probably curse you anyway."

"Thanks, Dean, that makes me feel a _lot_ better."

"Well, I'm just saying that you don't have to go; it probably won't do you any good."

Neville sighed. Dean was probably right; it wouldn't do him any good to go. He'd get hexed either way, and at least he wouldn't have to deal with the whole school thinking he might have _wanted_ to meet up with Millicent Bulstrode in Hogsmeade. But that would be running away, and he didn't want to do that. He was a Gryffindor, and if facing Bulstrode meant he'd wind up in the hospital wing, then he was just going to have to go to the hospital wing.

"I'm going," he said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I thought you would." Then he grinned. "Know what the scariest part is?"

"A six-foot tall, fifteen-stone Slytherin girl wants to meet me in a dark alley with the intention of removing my head from my body?"

He shook his head. "The way she dotted her i's with little hearts."

***

As the week wore on , Neville wasn't feeling any happier about the whole thing. The other Gryffindor boys had delighted in telling Neville whenever Bulstrode so much as glanced in his general direction, which was a lot. If you listened to Dean and Ron, particularly, each time she turned her head toward the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, even if it was only to ask Pansy Parkinson to pass the butter, it was the prelude to her getting up, coming over, dropping to one knee, and professing her undying love for Neville.

"Be more likely to declare undying love for Trevor," Seamus muttered. "Same species."

Lavender Brown sniffed. "She'd be more likely to declare her undying love for _me_ ," she said.

"Oh, right," Dean scoffed.

"It's true," Lavender insisted. "Parvati said that Padma told her that Lisa Turpin's cousin is a fifth year Slytherin, and she told Lisa over the summer that Bulstrode is like _that_." She lowered her voice to a whisper at the last few words.

"Like what?" Dennis Creevey piped up, and Colin whispered in his ear for a moment. Dennis flushed a bit, but nodded. "Oh. Like everyone says about Madam Hooch?"

Neville, who had actually been wondering "like what?" himself, put two and two together when the other boys snickered at Dennis, and just shrugged.

Ron thought for a moment. "Well, she looks a lot like a bloke-an ugly one, anyway-so I guess it makes sen-OW! _Ginny_!"

Ginny, who had by now perfected the art of kicking her brothers under the table without anyone noticing but the intended victim, looked up, smiling sweetly. "Yes?" "Never mind," Ron muttered sullenly.

"You're just lucky Mum wasn't here, you know she doesn't like it when you say things like that, particularly not with Cousin Finola-"

Neville tuned her out, brightening somewhat. "Do you really think so, Lavender?"

"I told you. Lisa's cousin told her, and she-"

"Told Padma who told Parvati who told you who told half the school," Dean said. "That means she definitely wants to hex you, Neville."

"Better than the other," Seamus said, and privately, Neville agreed.

"I guess I'll find out on Saturday," he said miserably.

"We'll check the alley before we come back," Dean said, "in case Pomfrey or someone needs to come after you."

"Yeah, thanks. That'd probably be good." He sighed, pretending not to notice that Bulstrode really was looking in his direction this time.

***

It rained on Friday night, and Neville hoped that the weather would be so bad that they'd call off, or at least postpone, the Hogsmeade trip. But with his usual luck, Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, with only the mud on the road into Hogsmeade giving an indication that it had even rained.

Neville wandered around Hogsmeade for a while, but he couldn't get interested in anything - not Honeydukes, not Zonko's, not having a butterbeer with Ginny and Hermione, not anything. The day just dragged on until it was time for him to meet Bulstrode. Or his doom, he thought, which was probably the same thing.

She was already waiting in the alley when he got there, checking her watch. "You're two minutes late, Longbottom," she said.

"S-sorry. My watch must be wrong." He noticed, with a sudden flare of panic, that she wasn't wearing her school robes today; instead, she had on a nice set of plain blue robes and looked as well groomed as she ever did. She'd even brushed the cat hair off her robes for once.

"Suppose it's all right," she muttered.

Neville nodded, relieved. There was a long silence, and then he said, awkwardly, "So. Um. Why did you want me to come here?"

"Why do you think?" Bulstrode asked, scornfully.

"Um. I think-well, I thought-you wanted to, well, hex me. Or something like that."

She flushed a mottled scarlet. "That's exactly what I wanted," she said, looking down at her shoes.

Neville gulped. "Oh. Um." His hand went into his pocket, his fingers closing around his wand. He ought to be able to protect himself, he thought, at least given a little luck.

"Yeah. Only since you figured it out, you'll be ready for it, and that spoils my fun."

"Oh. I'm sorry?"

She shrugged. "Don't care." Her face was still very red, and she still looked down at her oversized, square-toed shoes. She had a spot on the end of her nose, Neville noticed, and her lower lip was quivering a bit. He actually felt a bit sorry for her.

"Um, Bulstrode?" She looked up at him, glaring balefully. "What?"

"That, er, that wasn't really why you wanted me to come here, was it? Only you could have hexed me at school."

"'Course it was," she muttered. "And shut up, or I'll do it anyway."

Neville's knees were knocking together as he spoke, and he was pretty sure that whether he was right or wrong, she was going to hurt him anyway, but for some reason, he just had to know. "Little hearts over your i's, Bulstrode?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged again. "Can if I want to." "Yeah. I guess so."

She scowled at him. "I don't like you. You're a stupid Gryffindor, and you might as well be a Squib, and you're friends with Potter."

"I know," he said, softly. Of course he knew. And she hadn't even bothered listing off most of the reasons why no girls liked him: he was stupid and clumsy and useless, and that was all anyone ever saw, even after last year.

"So don't get the wrong idea about this," she added, and stepped forward.

Neville backed away reflexively, until his back met a brick wall and he had to stop. And that was when Millicent Bulstrode kissed him.

Neville hadn't thought that his first kiss-well, Ginny had kissed him on the cheek at the Yule Ball, but his first real kiss-would be quite so. well, scary. Bulstrode was taller and stronger than him, and she pinned his hands above his head, holding him against the wall. Her lips were pressed against his so hard that he thought she was definitely bruising his mouth, and she was stepping down heavily-and accidentally, he was almost certain-on his right foot, and the way her tongue pushed awkwardly past his lips was making it hard for him to breathe properly.

But her mouth tasted like she'd just finished a Stringflossing Toothmint, and she smelled, much to his surprise, of the plain yellow soap in the school bathrooms and something flowery he remembered smelling when Pansy Parkinson walked past (she must have borrowed it, he thought), and she didn't seem to mind that Neville was stepping on her foot, or that he accidentally bit her lip when they shifted position, and she was, technically speaking, an actual girl actually kissing him, and so this wasn't exactly the worst thing that had happened to Neville, not even just this week.

Then she stepped back, glaring at him. "S'pose you're going to tell all your friends about this," she said.

"Why would I do that?" he said. The thought had crossed his mind-he'd kissed a girl! Even if it was Millicent, of course he wanted to tell them-but he was sure she'd hex him, or punch him, or something, if he confessed to that.

She shrugged. "I'll tell everyone you're a liar. I'll say you were following me around and trying to get me to kiss you until I had to hit you to make you go away. They'll believe it. I mean, what girl would want to kiss you?"

_What boy would want to kiss you?_ Neville thought, but he only repeated, "I won't tell them, I swear."

"Think I'd trust a Gryffindor?"

"You can trust that I know you'd beat me up," he pointed out.

She was silent for a long while, and then she nodded. "You're right. Not even you could be that stupid."

Neville bristled a bit at that, but he didn't argue-he wasn't that stupid, after all. "So I won't tell anyone, and neither will you."

"All right." She frowned. "Wait here a bit, I don't want anyone seeing me with you."

He thought about mentioning that the other Gryffindors, at least, already knew where he was, but then decided it'd just be asking for Millicent to murder him. "Okay. Five minutes?"

"Should be long enough," she agreed. She left the alley quickly, without looking back at Neville at all.

Neville counted off five minutes-it was probably longer, to be honest, since he kept losing count-before he ventured out of the alley.

He found the other sixth year Gryffindor boys in the Three Broomsticks. He'd just planned to let them see he'd survived and go back to the castle, but Dean and Seamus waved him over so enthusiastically-for once-that he couldn't say no.

"You're alive," Dean said.

Neville nodded.

Seamus clapped him on the shoulder. "So does that mean that the vile Bulstrode wanted to snog you? I mean, obviously you didn't, you didn't die from her foul breath, but did she want to?"

Neville almost nodded, no matter what he'd told Millicent. He was sixteen, and he'd never been properly kissed before today, and he might never be again. This could be his one moment of romantic glory, once he reassured them that she really hadn't been all that foul to kiss.

But then he happened to glance up to see a group of Slytherin girls who were just sitting down at a table not far away from them. Millicent was one of them, and she'd obviously heard Seamus; she was scowling at Neville again, but-except for two spots of bright color on her cheeks-her face was quite pale, her eyes wary under her dark heavy brows.

He couldn't do it. Not because she'd beat him up; she'd most likely do that anyway. It'd just be wrong, that was all. He'd promised. And besides, it would be a rotten thing to do to a girl who'd just kissed you.

"Of course she didn't," he said loudly. "It's Bulstrode, what would she want to snog me for?"

"What did she want with you?" Dean asked.

"To hex me. And make me promise to let her see my Herbology homework for the rest of the term," he added, thinking that would be a nice touch.

Evidently, Millicent agreed; out of the corner of his eye, Neville could see her start to relax a bit.

"What about the little hearts over her i's, then?" Dean wondered.

Ron answered that before Neville had to think of a reply. "She's a girl, isn't she? At least sort of," he corrected himself. "Ginny wrote me a note to tell me how much she hated me, one time. She put a heart over the 'i' in 'Ginny'-and she signed it, 'Love, Ginny.' Girls are stupid sometimes," he added, after a quick glance around to make sure that neither his sister nor Hermione was in earshot.

"Nice to have around, though," Seamus said, and after a moment or two, the conversation had wandered off into a general discussion of the girls at Hogwarts.

Neville waited until the others were engrossed in a debate about whether it was better that Lavender Brown would let a boy she was dating take off her bra, or that Morag MacDougal would let him slide his hand all the way up her thigh-but on the outside of her skirt-before he looked over at the Slytherin girls again.

Just for a second, Millicent shot him a look of pure gratitude.

And just for a second, Neville grinned.


End file.
